Who's Gonna Tame Your Heart?
by The B'tyrr
Summary: This is what he remembers:  Jez, bright like shards of glass burrowing under his skin...These moments and more, glinting and slicing deeper with each breath. Pre-Huntress.
1. Chapter 1

_Who's Gonna Tame Your Heart?_

This is what he remembers: Jez, bright like shards of glass burrowing under his skin. A bubble of laughter flitting past his ear, the _thwack _of lacquered wood hitting his forearm; Jez poised beside him as they practiced extended strikes with the shillelagh. A tumble of diamonds, silver Rolex's and softly glowing antique coins spilling from an open back-pack and Jez sitting back on her heels, satisfied. _Mid-morning, best time for a little B&E _ she said smugly as he shrugged off sleep to admire the loot. Knowing then that it'd be alright- that he didn't have to worry about empty rooms or past due notices in bold red lettering.

Then there were the softly-formed moments. The ones that held the downy inner bend of her elbow and the curve of her hipbone under his palm- as smooth and lightly veined as the inside of a scallop shell. Jez besting him that last time, and as she pinned his head with her _bata_ he could still smell the salt-water on her skin. These moments and more, glinting and slicing deeper with each breath.

His mind skids over memories as his bike slices through dirty rain. Velvet-dark woods edge the road to his right; on his left the Pacific Ocean pounds sheer basalt cliffs. His headlight cuts a swath of light on the slick pavement. The curves come faster and faster until his jean-clad leg brushes the road and the smell of burnt rubber streaks the air with each swinging dip.

She exists in after-images—plumes of golden red blooming outwards from solid black and swirling purple. Sometimes, when the pain pulls sharp he gasps and catches those shapes on his tongue to remember how they'd turned bitter. But he knows. She chose this. She left.


	2. Chapter 2

"Hold still"

"Oww!'

"Oh, stop being a big baby. They're just seeds."

' Just shut up and do it !" At that, Morgead yanked the last burr out of Jez's hair. Jez howled, then whipped around to scowl at him. A few strands of flame-red hair still trailed from the prickly burr.

Morgead smirked. "You're welcome." Jez only huffed in reply. She scooted along the forest floor to sit next to him. Pine needles, crumbling leaves, and clumps of soil clung to her hands, so she wiped them off on her jeans. She turned to give Morgead an appraising look.

"You're dirty, Morgy," Jez said while wrinkling her nose.

She nimbly extended her legs until the tips of her clean, white sneakers were nearly even with his graying ones. Rubber was peeling off the soles, and the seam had burst open in the front of the right shoe so that it flopped open like a gaping mouth. His big toe poked out, dirt crusted along the nail-bed.

Morgead frowned down at the patches of skin that showed through the dusting of city-grime coating his knobby ankles. It was true; he was dirty. Not only that, but he'd outgrown his jeans and he couldn't remember the last time a pair of scissors had been taken to his shaggy dark hair. It's not like there was someone to show him how to take care of these things. His chin started to jut forward mutinously.

" You're one to talk," Morgead licked his thumb, then wiped a dark smudge of dried blood that caked the pale skin along her jaw. He froze, as Jez's eyes widened until a line of white shone around her silvery-blue iris.

Morgead's thumb ghosted over her cheek as his fingertips rested lightly on the pulse that beat just below her jaw line. Late summer heat buzzed in the air as leaves in the forest canopy rustled. The throaty caw of a raven echoed through the trees. Jez broke away and tucked her chin down. Flame-red curls tumbled forward to shield her face. Morgead's lungs constricted as he realized that he had just crossed a line. _I didn't mean…I messed up. Don't go. _

Her head still lowered, Jez regarded him trough a russet tangle. She bumped her shoulder against his.

"It's okay, Morgy. I still like you—even though you're a dirty gutter-rat." Morgead made a show of spluttering in anger, but hid his relief as the mood suddenly lifted.

"Don't—" He was about to spin off in a rent, but paused. Instead, he propped one leg on her knee and wiggled his dirty toe in her face. Jez shrieked in disgust and slammed an elbow into his shoulder. Morgead collapsed on the forest floor, laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

"Omph!" Morgead gasped as he was tackled from behind- _hard._ The blow sent him flying forward over the sand. He grasped cold, wet wrists that wrapped around his waist and lithely rolled in midair to pin his attacker beneath him.

"Gotcha. " White teeth flashed in a grin. A second later his body arched back up like a startled cat's.

"Ugh! Jez, you're _wet!_" He yelped. The disheveled redhead beneath him burst out laughing. Then she took advantage of his surprise and kneed him in the solar plexus. The force of the blow would have caused internal bleeding in a human, but it only stunned Morgead long enough for Jez to twist against his thumbs and break his hold on her wrists. In a flash, she had reversed their positions so that his hands were pinned on either side of his head as her knees straddled his hips.

"Duh, genius." She replied as she tossed a pointed look to the surf crashing twenty feet from where they lay. " You were too slow. I got bored. So I went for a swim." Jez explained simply. Her pale skin was slick with sea-water; Morgead watched as droplets trickled down her arms and abdomen. He lifted a heavy clump of her sodden, sand-caked hair and let it fall back to slap against her skin.

"That's disgusting, Jez. You know that's where vermin dump garbage." All around them cigarette butts and pop-can rings lay tangled in strands of dry sea-weed cast around by the tide.

"_You're_ disgusting, idiot." She replied. Then she dropped down to press the full length of her body against his. Morgead groaned as salt-water soaked through his jeans and t-shirt. Like a dog after a bath, Jez nuzzled his head and neck—taking special care to rub off bits of sand and sea-weed that still clung to her hair. Then she sat up grinning, satisfied with her work.

"You're dead." Morgead growled heatedly, but Jez was already running, kicking up sprays of sand behind her. Morgead leapt up to give chase but immediately fell back down, clutching his hand and hissing. A broken bottle glinted up at him through soft falls of sand, his blood dripping thickly from the jagged tip. Suddenly Jez was there beside him. She wasn't worried—but her silver-grey eyes sharpened with the heightened awareness of a wolf eyeing a stumbling pack-mate. Her face hovered close to his, peering at the wound. It was already closing, its white lips sealing shut over red flesh. She licked the blood off his palm and pressed her lips to the area.

"All better."

**Disclaimer: All characters are the property of L.J Smith. I own nothing! **

**Special thanks to those who reviewed!**

**NightWorldandRockMusic: Thank you! I don't have a set age for Jez and Morgead here. All I know is that they're on the cusp of adolescence. They're old enough to experience sexual tension, but too young to know what it is ;).**

**Crazy-Vampire-Lover: Thank you! I know, I'm trying to make the chapters longer but the scenes just kinda finish themselves :/. Hopefully I'll manage longer chapters the more I get into the swing of things.**

**A/N: This fic is semi-inspired by U2's song "Who's Gonna Ride Your Wild Horses." Check it out if you like!**


	4. Chapter 4

"You shouldn't be here." It was half-hearted, an admonishment that was cast from the side of her mouth as she turned back to the open window.

"Why's that?" Morgead smoothed a wrinkle in the quilt and propped his chin on his clasped hands. They were sprawled on her bed. Jez, stretched out lengthwise with her knees folded up, and Morgead lay perpendicular—his head even with her hips. The seafoam-green walls cast them both in an underwater glow.

"I don't really like you right now." Her voice was still faint. Morgead could tell she was drifting from him, onto the breeze and out the open window to wing with the gulls crying over the breaker rocks.

"Yeah?" Morgead watched the stringy fringe of her cut-off shorts flutter against her thighs. He caught a strand, and began to toy with it. The back of his hand brushed Jez's skin. She made a small noise and shifted slightly.

"Yeah. You were an asshole today." Morgead tugged on the string, letting it slide and catch as it unraveled. He didn't remember how the argument started. Somehow, he had ended up calling her a spoiled brat. In exchange, she threw his TV off the roof.

Jez swatted him gently. "Stop that," she said, but left her fingers tangled in his messy dark hair. Morgead did as instructed and let go of the string. Damp ocean breeze drifted over them both. Leather creaked as Morgead shifted up on the bed and laid his head on her belly, his palm resting on her hip. A fine trembling ran through Jez's body like a high-voltage current through a live wire as Morgead's thumb brushed over her hip-bone, dipping in the hollow between skin and denim. For a moment, the future hung before them, uncertain and formless in the blue dusk light.

"Sorry," he breathed, as his dark lashes fluttered over her skin. He heard Jez stifle a gasp before it could escape.

Jez relaxed."Yeah, well don't do it again." Morgead felt her draw breath and exhale, then draw it again. He matched her, breath for breath, until they fell into a deep rhythm.

"Uncle Bracken will be home soon." Jez sounded far off, like she was leagues under the sea. Her fingers grazed his scalp.

"Just a little longer."


End file.
